Four Changes Ago
by DuAnn Cowart
Summary: Fahrenheit considers memory and fire in Shiftworld


Disclaimers: Characters belong to 

Marvel/Wildstorm/whomever. 

All standard disclaimers, express and implied, apply.   
  


Shiftworld concept by Alicia MacKenzie.   
  


Many hanks to Alicia for betareading and Falstaff and 

Indigo for looking this over.   
  


This is a Shiftworld story with a slightly different cast 

of characters. I'm intrigued to see if they're 

recognizable.   
  


Feedback is hungrily sought and may be sent to 

ibelieve@rocketmail.com   
  
  
  


Four Changes Ago   
  
  
  


They were playing in the water four Changes ago, she 

remembered. Four Changes ago they'd been dunking and 

splashing each other like children, gleefully reveling in 

the sheer physical sensation of clean water and smooth 

bodies and air that blessedly didn't smell like sulfur. He 

had reached for her, and she'd slipped out of his arms, 

laughing, and then-   
  


She took another step up the steep barren hill, bittersweet 

memories pouring over her like flames. This is stupid, she 

told herself angrily, pushing matted red hair out of her 

eyes. Keep walking. Don't think about it. There's nothing 

you can do. Keep going.   
  


It was good advice, she knew, trying to rationalize herself 

out of the trap she'd laid. The past was dangerous as 

quicksand, seductive as a song, and if she let down her 

guard just a bit it would come pouring in and overwhelm 

her. She'd spent the last four Changes trying not to do 

just that. In fact, ever since the Universe went crazy and 

reality began ripping itself inside out it was more 

important to focus on the present, the now.   
  


It went far beyond the last four Changes. It was better not 

to even remember what happened Before. She knew she 

shouldn't dwell on how her team had simply been enjoying a 

night off together in Officer's Lounge when the air turned 

crisp, sharp, and then blossomed into a shuddering golden 

fire that tore all reality apart at the seams. She 

shouldn't remember the look on her friends' faces as they, 

along with every other living creature in existence, were 

swallowed whole by the first of the shifting Changes that 

would rend the Multiverse asunder.   
  


It was better not to think about how in the middle of all 

that horror she had instinctively held so tightly to the 

man laying on the couch beside her, and he to her, that 

when the sudden acid blackness swallowed them it spat them 

out as one into a lunatic world born anew, a world where 

order and reason were subsumed by the unpredictable Changes 

that shuffled reality like an obscene card game.   
  


That was the First Change, though by no means the worst 

one. That one had deposited them into the heart of a 

volcano- and heat held no fear for either of them. In the 

twenty-two Changes since then she'd seen far, far worse.   
  


That was how she numbered her days now, by the Changes. No 

other time had any meaning since the world- or parts of it- 

had begun with unpredictable irregularity.   
  


It was like the Viewmaster toy she'd played with as a 

child- with one click of a button the slideshow picture of 

a forest became a beach then a mountain then the plains, 

one right after the other with no melding or merge in 

between. Unlike that simple device, though, here there was 

no explanatory button, no rhythm or purpose or meaning 

behind the Changes. Sometimes- sometimes- there were very, 

very subtle warning signs, just enough so a perceptive 

person could prepare enough to possibly stay alive.   
  


And sometimes there weren't, she thought bleakly, then drew 

in a deep breath and continued hiking up the hill. She 

ruthlessly surpressed the urge to fly, to give in to the 

fire inside her and allow it to take flight. She didn't. 

She didn't take to the air anymore if it could be avoided. 

She was afraid if she did, she'd lose all control and fly 

right into the sun.   
  


So instead she walked, concentrating on the difficult 

trail, focusing on each next step. There was no sense 

reminding herself of what she'd lost. She'd met too many 

people who'd gone mad from wallowing in the past, too many 

who had lost all grasp of reality in the face of the ever 

changing horrors that were their daily lot. Whatever it was 

that caused the Changes had happened, and those who 

survived just had to deal with it.   
  


Before, she'd lived to help others. Now she just tried her 

best to live, to jump through whatever hoops destiny 

presented. Destiny. She smiled humorlessly at the word. 

For some reason, it made her think of a night, seven 

Changes ago, when she was still a they.   
  


They'd been hiking across the desert then, too, she 

remembered, when they'd seen a spot in the distance, a spot 

that had slowly turned into a man. He'd been some sort of 

SPB, that much was certain- he had cybernetic enhancements 

all along one side and still wore a ragged uniform, though 

she didn't recognize the colors. He was very tall, and 

still well-muscled for all the obvious toll that hunger had 

taken on all of them. Long silver hair streamed down his 

back, and she didn't know if it was that or his proud 

bearing that made her think of Nikolas. She remembered 

hurting then at the thought of Winter, gone, but she hadn't 

really known pain then.   
  


The man had first greeted them in a flowing liquid tongue 

that she was told sounded remarkably like Gaelic. The 

stranger- Nathan- had soon reverted to English, and after 

realizing they meant him no harm had offered to share 

provisions with them in exchange for company throughout the 

night.   
  


She was ravenously hungry, so she agreed readily enough. 

Her lover was suspicious, as was his nature, but even 

though he needed no such nourishment he was acutely aware 

of how very thin she'd grown during the months since the 

world had ended. He'd accepted gruffly, with thanks, though 

she could see it pained him to rely on a stranger to 

provide for her when he- when they- could not.   
  


Nathan was a telekine, it turned out. A gifted one, even, 

able to alter the molecular structure of matter, 

reanimating it into any form he desired. They'd watched, 

awestruck, as Nathan had scooped up handfulls of sand and 

straining with effort, transformed them into steak, into 

bread, into blessed beer in, of all things, *frosted* mugs.   
  
  
  


Cold beer flowing in the desert. That had won him over more 

than anything short of ending the Changes could, she 

recalled with something almost like a smile, remembering 

how he'd quaffed down glass after glass of beer, shivering 

with the sheer joy of it, cajoling the stranger for more. 

As for her, she'd eaten so much she'd become embarrassingly 

sick.   
  


The man called Nathan had watched impatiently as they 

gorged themselves, then when they were sated began talking 

urgently with them long into what passed for the night 

about the Changes- or what he called Shifts. He spoke for 

hours about prophecies and time travel and destiny and an 

Egyptian monster and something called the Twelve, and some 

way he'd figured out to reverse the Changes-   
  


Grateful for his assistance, they had tried to help as best 

they could, but from the first fevered words it was obvious 

the poor man was insane. Controlling- even reversing the 

Changes? Sheer craziness.   
  


He was persuasive, though. She'd caught herself actually 

holding her breath, praying for a moment that what he said 

was right, that the Changes *could* be reversed, that they 

could one day go home. . . Embers of the idealism and hope 

that had once burned so brightly in her had just began to 

flicker when stark realization came crashing down.   
  


Nathan had been sitting across the small campfire, eyes 

aglow with fanatism. She'd studied him closely, listening 

to the rhythmic rise and fall of his words, and slowly the 

pieces started to fit. The farfetched story, the classic 

messianic complex, the madness glinting in his eyes- it was 

textbook.   
  


They'd lived through fanciful adventures Before, and the 

Changes themselves were evidence enough of a world beyond 

their own, but time travel? Destiny? Prophecies?   
  


She'd glanced at the man sitting crosslegged beside her, 

and he'd nodded imperceptibly, and brightly colored fingers 

laced in her own squeezed slightly in response. The man was 

insane. She remembered closing her eyes and looking away, 

unable to bear the terrible bright hope in the stranger's 

eyes.   
  


Hope didn't belong in this world.   
  


He *was* crazy, she'd decided, but he was kind in his own 

way, and he was so broken, so alone. . .   
  


Alone. She shuddered as she crested the hill, her shadow 

falling long and thin across the ground.   
  


"Why are yeh tellin' us this, mate?" Her lover had asked 

him quietly, in an unreadable voice he had rarely used even 

Before. One strong arm wrapped protectively around her thin 

shoulders, and he pressed on gently. "We've never heard of 

any of this and, I'm sorry to say, we're not in yer bloody 

Twelve. What can we do t' help?"   
  


Glowing golden eyes had studied both of them in turn, and 

then broad shoulders slumped despondently. "You can't," 

he'd murmured quietly, in a voice so full of despair she 

felt her heart would break for him, for them all. "You 

can't. I'm sorry I bothered you- This is my fault. They're 

gone, she's gone, and it's all my fault."   
  


There was nothing to be said to that, and the rest of the 

night had passed without comment. Full for the first time 

in weeks and utterly exhausted from days spent trekking 

across the desert, she'd curled up by the fire and slept, 

trusting the man beside her to be her sentry. He had, for 

like the rest of his physical needs his desire for sleep 

was all in his mind, and that could be controlled- to an 

extent, anyway. She'd found him absolutely uncontrollable 

at times.   
  


When the morning came, Nathan was gone, although their 

packs were stuffed with rations and a few precious cans of 

beer. Despite his generosity, neither of them were 

particularly sorry to see him leave. It was obvious that 

underneath the thin veneer of lucidity the man could break 

at any time, and they couldn't afford that. Only fools 

squandered precious energy on mindless battle anymore.   
  


Besides, something about the big man had made him nervous, 

he'd told her later. She'd laughed at him then, she 

recalled, made some silly, teasing joke about his perceived 

inadequacies- at which point, laughing himself, he'd felt 

honor-bound to prove her wrong.   
  


They'd laughed so much Before, and even after the Changes 

laughter had flowed even in the chaotic world they'd been 

thrown into.   
  


She hadn't laughed in a long, long time. She turned her 

face towards the sky, feeling scorching heat impotently 

burn into over her fair skin. Without her abilities she 

would have long since been boiled in her skin, but even 

exhausted and depleted as she was her seedling biology 

protected her against the worst of the changes in 

temperature. It had saved her life more than once, and she 

trusted it would do it again. Truth to tell, she was really 

beginning not to care either way.   
  


She picked her way across the top of the hill, spotting a 

cluster of weathered oak trees in the distance. It was a 

perfect resting spot, an oasis of sorts, she thought as she 

trudged the last few steps towards the straggly copse of 

trees.   
  


After a detailed inspection to ensure that she wasn't 

walking into an ambush, she collapsed at the bottom of the 

largest tree, resting in the shade. Pressing her spine 

against the tree trunk, she reached into a pocket of the 

oversized jumpsuit she'd liberated two Changes back and 

pulled out a treasured package of beef jerky, tearing off a 

small bite and swallowing it down with tiny sips of 

precious bottled water.   
  


I'm so tired, she thought, and leaned her head back against 

the tree to stare blankly at the empty field at the top of 

the hill. Weakened by exhaustion, lulled by the soothing 

sounds of the rustle of the leaves of the tress, she closed 

her eyes, allowing her mind to finally rest.   
  


She had a moment's velvet peace, then out of the blue 

memory stabbed her like a knife. She struggled for a 

moment, then finally surrendered as memories wrapped 

themselves around her weary mind like blanket, warm and 

soft and smothering.   
  


It had been Paradise.   
  


Five Changes ago, she and her lover had stumbled onto a 

perfect beach. It had been so completely, utterly 

beautiful, she remembered. The colors of that unearthly 

tropical scene had stood out in perfect clarity. The water 

and sky had been an amazing crystal blue, just a half-shade 

brighter than it had been half-remembered reality.   
  


She closed her eyes, probing at the memory like a wound. 

The white sand at that shore had glistened like diamonds in 

the incredibly normal sunlight. Even their torn, bedraggled 

clothing so carefully folded by the shore gleamed like 

jewels in the white sand.   
  


They had found Utopia. After Changes and Changes of hells, 

they had finally stumbled upon a garden of delight. They 

had lived there for almost a month, swimming, splashing, 

making love on the beach. They hunted and fished, and she 

lived off of the fruit of the beach. He didn't have to eat 

anything, but he did anyway, just because it was there and 

he could.   
  


Looking back, she supposed some part of her had begun to 

believe that it could be permanent. She should have known 

better.   
  


They had been swimming naked in the sea when the Change 

hit. This one gave no warning. In less than an instant, the 

clear blue sky erupted in a frothing sheet of silver flame 

that ripped open the world, wringing out the air around 

them like a wet cloth before turning reality inside out to 

Change the land around them from a tropical paradise into a 

frozen wasteland.   
  


Only reflexes honed by years as soldier saved her from 

breaking every bone in her body when the wave spat her 

roughly out on the now icy shore. He hadn't been that 

lucky. She had watched, horrified, as the fading silver 

strip of energy took his body and twisted, stretching him 

out like apple taffy before snapping back in on itself and 

dropping him from the sky to land crumpled on the earth 

only a few feet away.   
  


She scrambled to him, unconsciously increasing her body 

temperature to ward off the worst effects of the now biting 

cold. The icy ground melted underneath her, leaving a trail 

of rapidly cooling water behind her as she crawled to his 

side.   
  


He was curled in fetal position, but when he heard her call 

his name he rolled over on his back, one arm reached out 

towards her, the other pressed tightly against a gaping 

tear in his side.   
  


There had been words then, she remembered, but no matter 

how hard she tried, no matter how many nights she lay 

sleepless straining for the memory, she could not recall 

what she said, what he said. All she could remember was the 

cold certainty in his eyes as he saw soft green gas swirl 

out from the gaping wound he was trying so desperately to 

staunch.   
  


She immediately put her hands on the wound, instincts 

taking over. She applied pressure as she'd been taught in 

training so many years ago, but the forcefield that made up 

his skin seemed to buckle underneath her calloused hands. 

Frantically, she'd looked around for something to bind it 

with, but there was nothing. Everything they had, 

everything they'd built had been destroyed in the blink of 

the Change.   
  


They were completely and utterly alone. Despairingly, she 

had tried to use her own powers to cauterize the wound, but 

that just made it worse as the heat catalyzed the plasma 

and increased the rate of expulsion.   
  


He was bleeding to death. No matter how hard either of them 

pressed against the opening, no matter how hard he strained 

to manipulate the forcefield to heal itself, molecules of 

sentient gas still seeped through their fingers. The 

patches slowed the progress of the gas, but it was still 

wafting into the air, bright jade green against a cold grey 

sky.   
  


The image slashed through her mind like razorblades. She 

bowed her head, pressing tightly closed fists against her 

eyes as she now willingly gave herself over to the memories 

that burned like wildfire, experiencing them if she were 

once more there with him, watching him die all over again.   
  


It'd only taken minutes for him to fade away. During that 

time, they tried everything imaginable to save him and 

more, and when it was obvious that nothing was working, 

shared a lifetime's worth of secrets, made a lifetime's 

worth of plans. He'd even laughed, she remembered now, and 

made lewd jokes about duct tape and her blowing him back up 

even as he watched himself fade away, one hand pressed 

tightly to his side, the other clutching hers like a 

lifeline.   
  


Of course he'd joked. He was who he was. He'd flashed her 

that damn grin and laughed it up until the end, even as he 

made a herculean effort to hold the sentient gas that *was* 

him in check. It hadn't worked. Slowly, working its way 

through the molecules of their joined hands, the pale green 

gas exited the hole, making a hissing sound like air from a 

leaking tire. As it did so, the forcefield that defined him 

became looser, softer, more pliable as the gas that filled 

him slipped out into the sky.   
  


If they had been back on Skywatch, the medical staff could 

have helped him, repaired him, just as they had the last 

time something like this had happened. He hadn't liked to 

talk about it even before the world ended, but she 

understood something of the pain he'd gone through when his 

power grew too much for his first body to contain. He'd 

almost died then, she knew, but he'd come back. Toshiro had 

somehow brought him back.   
  


Why hadn't she been able to bring him back?   
  


She leaned against the dry oak tree, feeling the rough bark 

press into her cheek. She'd been with him the whole time, 

kneeling impotently by his side as he bled away. Begging, 

cursing, threatening, pleading, she had tried everything 

she could to find a way to make his forcefield 

spontaneously repair itself.   
  


Weak and disoriented as he was, he'd managed to laugh, eyes 

softening as he looked up at her tear streaked face. He 

tried so hard, she knew he tried, but his electrical net 

wasn't responding. The Change had stretched him so far that 

he'd quite simply torn, and the exhaustion of the life they 

had lived had sapped away the strength he needed to heal 

himself.   
  


She swallowed tightly now, rubbing her cheek against the 

rough bark to allow the uneven wood to scratch her cheek. 

The physical pain helped dull the searing agony of images 

seared into her soul, though she still felt their pain like 

a brand. No matter how many Changes she survived, she knew 

she'd never fully recover from what had happened next. 

Forcefield shuddering to maintain cohesion, he had lifted 

both quavering hands and rested them on either side of her 

face to draw her closer to him. Silently whispering the 

words he'd said so many times before, his lips had met hers 

and he had gently kissed her, eyes open so that the last 

image he ever saw would be of her face pressed closely to 

his.   
  


Foreheads touching, with great effort his nervous system 

sent labored messages to the part of the rapidly fading 

energy net that served as his larnx. With his last breath 

he managed to whisper, in a voice so low and hoarse that 

she thought she'd almost imagined it. . .   
  


"Love . . . yeh. . ."   
  


Then the outline of the the man she'd loved collapsed into 

an empty bag and dissolved as the last of the sentient gas 

that was his consciousness wafted out into the air to 

surround her in a thick cloud.   
  


Tears streaming down her face, heart pounding in her chest, 

she breathed in, knowing that his plasma wouldn't injure 

her fireproof lungs, not caring at the moment if it did. 

She reached out a hand, fingers outstretched, but the gas 

just danced at her fingertips as his essence began slowly 

diffusing into the atmosphere.   
  


Naked, suddenly achingly alone, she made herself stagger to 

her feet. Arms outstretched, she savored his last touch as 

sentient gas slowly swirled around her, twining around her 

arms, her legs, her body, gently caressing her as tendrils 

of gas danced along her bare skin. She closed her eyes, 

shivering, and for a moment she thought she felt a point of 

pressure, fingertips, soft and sure, brush her lips.   
  


She forced burning eyes open and nodded once, slowly. "Love 

you, too," she whispered brokenly to the green cloud that 

surrounded her.   
  


There was a long pause, and the gas pulsed, a bright 

goldgreen glimmer, then slowly ascended into the air. Arms 

wrapped tightly around her waist, she forced herself to 

watch as the soft wind pulled him away, wondering if he was 

gone, if he could still think, still feel, wondering if he 

were trapped in that form forever or if his soul could go 

on to wherever it was that heroes went when their time on 

earth was done.   
  


It was days before she was coherent enough to wonder how 

the hell she'd ever make it through without him. That was 

Four Changes ago.   
  


She pulled away from the tree, wiping angry tears away. 

Dammit, I know better than this, she thought fiercely. He's 

gone, and I'm here, and I've got to keep moving. I've got 

to keep going.   
  


So she did, clamping down the flames that burned inside 

her, locking them away with the memories that she knew one 

day would ignite so brightly that she'd be consumed by 

them. One day, she knew. One day she'd burn so bright that 

she wouldn't be able to hold the flames back, one day she'd 

let her powers go just as he had and leave the shell that 

bound her to this insane world of Change.   
  


One day she'd set herself free.   
  


Just not today. A faint rumbling sounded in the distance, 

and her breath caught in her throat.   
  


With a deep sigh, she braced herself against the twisted 

oak tree and rose to her feet to look around, preparing for 

the world to move around her.   
  


Change was coming.   
  


____________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


Note: A followup story to this one is forthcoming.   
  



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